


Endless Nights

by UbiquitousMixie



Category: The Closer
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UbiquitousMixie/pseuds/UbiquitousMixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brenda can’t take many more nights like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endless Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little angsty drabble that I’ve been thinking about for a while. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Brenda can’t take many more nights like this. The thick darkness with its stifling silence is driving her mad. She stares at the window, at the moonlight that casts its eerie shadows upon the floor, and picks out random shapes in the splotches of light to distract herself from the thoughts that have kept her awake. She spots a bunny and a dinosaur but, as always, the shadows blur into a caricature of Sharon’s face. She sees it as clearly as if the woman were standing in front of her. 

She closes her eyes, exhaling sharply as she turns away from the window. She opens her eyes and counts the freckles on Fritz’s back. There are five that she can see and when she’s counted them twice, she watches the steady rise and fall of his breath. He’s deeply asleep and Brenda wonders what he dreams about. She’s never asked because if she did, he would wonder about hers, and she doesn’t have the heart to tell him that she dreams of another woman. 

She rolls onto her back and presses her hands to her eyes, hoping to rub away the visions that haunt her. She can’t get Sharon and her startling green eyes out of her head. Thinking about Sharon Raydor has become a habitual part of her day and night. It’s not as bad when she’s at work and has the distraction of a murder to tame her otherwise preoccupied mind. It’s not even so bad when Fritz is awake, because she tries so hard to be attentive to him. It’s at its worst at night, when the world is still and quiet and Brenda can’t control her unruly thoughts. 

She wishes she could sleep, but when she does, the dreams will come. She’s terrified of these dreams because they betray her deepest, most unspoken desires. She wakes almost daily in a sweat, her body trembling and her panties damp and her heart pounding for something it can’t have. And she wants Sharon Raydor; if there’s one thing she’s discovered about these endless nights, it’s that she doesn’t hate the captain. She doesn’t even dislike her, not the littlest bit. In fact, Brenda is quite certain that she loves her. 

Brenda’s eyes fill with tears. She can’t take this. She hates herself for feeling this way, believing that her heart has betrayed the most sensible corners of her mind. She’s becoming an unrecognizable version of herself. Now, when Brenda gets ready in front of the mirror, she can’t even look herself in the eye. She hates who she’s becoming, hates that she finds excuses to avoid being touched by her husband, hates that she finds reasons to see the captain whenever she can. She feels like a speeding train that’s about to be derailed.

She sniffs back her tears, determined not to spend another night crying. She shifts back onto her side, facing the window. On nights when she couldn’t sleep, she used to curl up in Fritzi’s arms. He would nuzzle his nose in her hair and she would drift off with the scent of his aftershave heady and soothing in her head. She can’t do that anymore, not when the crippling guilt consumes her. She tries not to think about what it would feel like to curl her body around Sharon’s because thinking about it only makes her want it more. 

Brenda curls her body into the fetal position and she closes her eyes, begging sleep to claim her swiftly. If she could only sleep, she’d be all right. She could reclaim some of her sanity. She could have a reprieve from her guilt and her love and her hate. 

She focuses on the sound of her husband’s breathing. _Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale…_ She counts each breath, the gentle wheeze of air breaking up the silence in the room, and Brenda finally drifts off. 

And the dreams begin anew. 

\---


End file.
